Oh god. I have started and deleted so many threads about my parents because I really thought nobody would understand and I would be told to get a grip and make the most of having them around. But this thread has me actually sitting in tears because of the connection I feel to so many of you.
The descriptions of parents - the never ending commentary on every inane detail, road signs, billboards, shop names all read out in a sort of questioning way as if I am supposed to start a spirited conversation about Parker Road or similar.
The turning into a sullen teenager when I am around them. I'm 35 years old FFS. I have a responsible job, a good adult relationship with DH and my friends yet as soon as they are around me, I revert to this stroppy sarcastic teenager.
Feeling like I have already lost them but cannot grieve because they are still here. This is the biggest issue for me. I have so many wonderful memories of my parents but in the last ten years both they and I have changed to a point where there is no connection at all and I find getting through the day with them such a chore. I feel like a lost my parents - my dad especially, a long time ago. Now, if I am completely honest, I kind of want that to happen so I can properly grieve and remember the good times before they are obliterated by current events and new memories.
The eating noises – I have misophonia and it is set off by my dad in particular. When eating or drinking anything he sort of holds the spoon, fork or cup a few centimetres away from his mouth and then sucks the food or drink in, like a noisy vacuum. I cannot stand it and I hate eating out with him for this reason.
The Daily Mail reading and absolute belief in every word printed by that hateful little rag.
The sexism from both parents – they cannot accept that I earn more than DH and tell me I should know my place. They think it abhorrent that we share housework duties and that I don’t get up earlier than him every single morning to send him of to work with a cooked breakfast in his belly. Also, I am told that a “real woman” would only ever work part-time so that she can devote more time to housework.
My dad’s deafness. I’m not disablist at all. One of my line managers has a hearing problem and my cousin was born profoundly deaf. Both of them wear hearing aids. My dad saved up £2k to get a digital aid and binned it after 1 hour because it was uncomfortable. He complains about the way he is treated for being deaf and that I, in particular, make no concession for his disability but in the same breath says he couldn’t imagine wearing aids like my cousin because he would “look like a cripple”. I have learned sign language to communicate better with my cousin and have attended numerous disability awareness training sessions to deal with the various issues faced by students I may teach, including deafness, but my father does not want to know about anything that might make life easier for him. It is far better to scream at the world for treating him unfairly. What drives me mad in particular is that any time I, my mum or any other woman speaks to him we get two words out before he screams “WHAT????” but he seems to understand my DH and other male relatives perfectly. This, to me, seems obviously rooted in sexism – he obviously listens more intently to what a man has to say because it will be more important. If I speak normally I get screamed at for “whispering” but the second I try to speak clearly and project my voice (my presentation voice) I get told I am speaking too harshly for him.
The talking in a long boring drone about the plot of a film or tv programme. Especially if it one I have already said I don’t like. Strictly, for example – can’t stand the programme yet I get a 30 minute commentary every week after it has aired “and so and so wore a dress that like like… and Brucie said… and then the judges said… and everyone booed… but they got through…” and every monologue ends with the words “Honest! That’s what happened.” Really, ‘cause I didn’t doubt you – I’m just not interested.
We have nothing in common. I accept that but they cannot. They think my enjoyment of hill-walking, museums and art galleries is dull. My mother claims to be mortally embarrassed by the fact I am a member of a book group. My father tells me they should have never allowed me to go to university as I became a boring snob. In contrast, they like to drink every night – down the “social” and are obsessed with being able to lie on a beach, burning to a crisp at any given opportunity.
The incessant talking about people I don’t know. “so, what have you been up to this week?” “Well, on Saturday we…” “Oh, hang on, I didn’t tell you about John. This is more important that your stuff which is likely to be dull. Anyway, you know John, used to live across the road but moved 15 years ago, well his son’s father in law has had to go into hospital for an operation…” or with an air of deep foreboding and completely out of the blue, “Caroline’s gone to Spain”. Who is Caroline? Why is this news?
My parents moved abroad a few years ago (so they could get away from the Britain that the DM tells them is now run by Shariah law and spend their days on a sunny beach) and so now their “visits” tend to involve them staying in our house for at least a month at a time. So all the above happens all day, every day and I can’t stand it. Some of the problems are understandably big but others are tiny but get under my skin like a constant, repetitive torture – the way my dad sits on our armchair; picking it up and walking with it three paces to set it down that little bit closer to the TV then sort of throws himself about in the chair muttering about being comfortable. Then there is the TV watching which annoys me as the constant refrain in our household growing up was “we don’t rule our lives by the tv”. Now they do exactly that except it is my tv in my home and because of the deafness it is loud and they watch crap stuff that I don’t want to watch. We bought them their own tv for the spare room and my mum cried because it meant we don’t want to sit with them in the evenings and weekends, so that was a waste of money. If they ever do leave the house for a while – hardly likely because even in the middle of summer “it’s too cold outside” – as soon as they come back in, my dad thunders through to the living room before even taking off his coat and shoes to ask “What’s on? What are you watching? What have I missed?” Oh and we’re not allowed to watch anything (a) American (B) Sci-Fi or fantasy and (C) “snobbish” while they are around.
My mother has a horrible habit of walking straight to the front of a bus queue and pushing her way on in front of everyone else who has been waiting. I’m surprised we’ve not been punched at times.
They treat me so differently to any other adult my age. Still talk down to me as if I am a child but actually seem like lovely people when in mixed company.
They insist on making dinner most nights when they stay. I know I am such an ungrateful cow but they make such odd stuff that we would never eat. We try to reduce our meat consumption and eat veggie through the week with meat dishes being a treat at weekends. We also buy our meat from the farmer’s market which is obviously more expensive, hence the reduction. They, however, buy battery eggs (They’re so cheap, why anyone would spend more?”) and Asda smart priced chicken kievs which they will serve with mashed turnip and three raw pepper strips (actual dinner recently). Or a lump of tinned haggis with boiled aubergine on the side. The thing is, both parents are excellent cooks and regularly host dinner parties with amazing feasts.
I could go on, but this is long enough. Although the obvious big things are a problem – it’s the little niggles that get to me on a day-to-day basis. I can't relax and be myself when I am aroudn them and I don;t like the person I do become. The problem is that I build up an idea of how I want visits to go – and they inevitably fall flat within minutes. I feel utterly drained when I am with them, meanwhile they just blunder on through life oblivious to this. I know they won’t be around for ever and I would love to be able to get past all this and spend some quality time with them. I jump every time the phone rings, thinking something might have happened to one of them and I really don’t want my last thought of them or physical experiences to be negative. I just don’t know how to break the cycle.
I actually went to counselling to try to deal with these feelings as so many times I would lie in bed crying at the end of the day when they were visiting. I didn’t really connect with the counsellor who homed straight in on the fact that DH and I are childless and suggested this might be evidence of me putting myself in a child role, unwilling to grow up so they are just reacting to that. I didn’t really feel the need to go into detail about my private life decisions and gynae history after that.